Ohr was always prolific, always innovative, and taken to showcasing his wares far and wide at all manner of fairs and expositions. Some of his pieces were entirely utilitarian, meant for the kitchen and housewife, while others were purely expressionistic works of art. He continued to associate with and learn from the New Orleans artistic pottery movement, so his work and artistic development gravitated between the Big Easy and Biloxi for years. He fully embraced the mantra of "no two alike", meaning every piece must be unique, an idea first proffered by his associates in the Newcomb College Art Department in New Orleans. 

George was also dauntless, rising Phoenix-like several times over from personal disasters, such as the fire that swept through Biloxi in 1894 that destroyed his business and some 10,000 plus pieces. But he had recovered enough by 1904 that he would win a silver metal at that year's St Louis World's Fair. Even so, Ohr, like many artists, felt underappreciated and misunderstood, and this perhaps helped to shape his extravagantly extroverted, wryly humorous and eccentric character, as he traveled about sporting a huge handlebar moustache and styling himself  "The Mad Potter of Biloxi". If nothing else, this was a unique way of advertising himself before the public. He was outspoken, anarchistic, and shamelessly self-promotional, proclaiming himself the world's greatest potter, unrivalled and unequalled. Although this might sound rather vain, it was also true during his era, for even today experts marvel at his technical proficiency and limitless creativity, as if his skills verged on magical powers. His works are honored today both in the Smithsonian Museum and around the world. 

George was also prolific in terms of children, his wife Josephine bearing ten of them, although only five survived into adulthood, a not uncommon ratio in those days. His many descendents have retained a strong presence in Biloxi, which is where his great-grandson John Morykwas steps into the picture as we regard the curious phenomenon of the Ohr-O'Keefe Museum versus Hurricane Katrina.

Frankly, as John Morykwas explains it, the allure of money has always been a deciding factor in Biloxi politics, and George Ohr's name and pottery artifacts have become as good as gold along the Gulf Coast now. In fact, according to John, the influence of big money is reflected in the title of the Museum itself, because, as he relates, the very name O'Keefe was incorporated into it after former Biloxi mayor Jerry O'Keefe gave one million dollars of his wife's estate to the Museum. But this is how you get your name on the marquee in a lot of places these days.  

John himself is rather cynical about the entire project, because he and his relatives have been largely ignored by the Museum's directors. Neither they nor the younger members of the O'Keefe family, he claims, have had any dealings with the Museum project. Furthermore, he charges, the Museum even tried to trademark the Ohr family name at one point.  

John has, in the past, tried to be cooperative with the city in promoting Ohr's legacy, even loaning them his photo album of George Ohr's works. However, to his dismay, five photographs turned up missing and have not been recovered to this day. The Ohr descendents also argued for putting the Museum on safer ground, on Ohr family property, but the movers and shakers in Biloxi gravitated toward the glitter and glamour of the beachfront, an attraction, it turned out, as deadly as the allure of the Greek Sirens for spellbound sailors. The ironic thing about all this is that the Mad Potter himself hated politicians, being rather anarchistic, and is likely rolling about in his grave as politicians and investors in Mississippi and beyond try to take advantage of his legacy. 

John explained how a local judge even tried to enforce a capricious injunction against him to basically steal some of the Ohr family collection, so John's situation has become not unlike that of an eagle or hawk attempting to protect the family nest from predators, human or otherwise. We are almost back to the law of the wild here. 

Because of the powerful economic engine of the already greatly rebuilt casinos, money is pouring into Biloxi, but the money is largely enabling those businesses and industries most relevant to the casino resorts: tourism, restaurants, transportation, seafood, high-end entertainment, etc. Biloxi, because of the casinos' wealth, is luckier than other coastal cities devastated by Katrina. But still, the rebuilding is haphazard and chaotic. So you find, on street after street, strange juxtapositions of glittering neon and luxurious opulence with abandoned shells of businesses or massive piles of concrete debris and twisted steel. Once again, as with other Gulf towns and cities, there is no evident, centrally coordinated rebuilding strategy that responds to the needs of all sectors of society. Billions more dollars are needed to uplift the citizenry of Biloxi, many of whom are still surviving in FEMA trailers. Of course, we all know where all the money is going: for militarism and war that serves the needs of the rapacious plutocracy of this country and little else, no matter how many bromides about defending the homeland they toss at us like dog bones. This is the homeland, and it has already been wrecked, so why are we colonizing Iraq and calculating how to attack Iran when there is so much pain and suffering right here that needs to be addressed?